Psychic Vampire
COVID-19 nearly killed me.
Oh, not in the way you think. Not in a I-can’t-breathe-I’m-on-a-ventalator kinda way. Not in a I-can’t-taste-my-food sorta way, either.
I couldn’t feed properly. I nearly starved to death.
Long story short, I’m what some people call - wrongly, I might add - an emotional vampire. I take a little bite out of you, and go on my merry way - but not in the way you might have read about on WebMD or in Psychology Today. And, for the record, I don’t actually bite.
For example: I don’t suffer from low self esteem. I do not need constant attention. My life is not in constant crisis.
I do not crave incessant validation. In fact, I’m really quite gregarious. Well, when I’m feeding in regular intervals, and the food supply is plentiful.
I prefer the term “psychic vampire;” if, of course, you want to insult all the real vampires out there. But let’s go with it, and leave it right there.
Yes, I do feed off the “life force” of other creatures; I do not argue or belittle the point. I increase my energy, my life force, by siphoning off a little of yours. Just think of it as unburdening some of your anxiety, laughter, joy, trepidation, sadness - whatever emotion you’re feeling at the time - to keep me happy and healthy. And sure, after we talk, you’ll probably feel a little tired. A little drained. But that’s it, really. No harm, no foul.
And I do appreciate the boost, from each and every one of you. And I do speak for all the rest of us (because there’s more of us than you think). We thank you for your service.
We’re fairly easy to spot, just so you know. We’re out there, all around, all the time. Everywhere there’s a crowd.
You know the type: The single guy on a business trip at the next table at the restaurant who strikes up a conversation with you over what’s the best plate of food in this place? The girl at the dog park who compliments you on how behaved your dog is, then talks your ear off about the benefits and pitfalls of an all-raw diet and what does a raw diet mean, anyway? We’re the couple (who says psychic vampires can’t hunt in pairs?) who sit behind you at the community concert in the park, and offer to share our cheese board and slightly fruity Pinot Grigio and by the way, where did you get those cute sandals?
But COVID-19, am I right? We can’t feed over Zoom or Google Meet. There’s no way to unburden some energy over the phone, a text or through WhatsApp. We need that close connection. The idle conversation. We have to be close, you know? So thank God for all the mask mandates, which made it a little bit easier to get a slip of nourishment at the gas station or the grocery store.
Just imagine the silly prompts we had to come up with. For example:
“Can you believe Governor (INSERT NAME HERE) extended the COVID health orders again? When are we ever going to get back to normal, do you think?”
“I don’t mean to pry, but where did you get your mask? I love to fish and your fish mask is just killer.”
“Excuse me, where did you find those King’s Hawian hamburger buns? They look amazing.ly delicious.”
“Looks like gas prices are on the rise again - think we’re going to be paying $5 a gallon by 2022?”
I’m forward enough that I’ve made ends meet. So to speak. But yeah, I know some of us who passed. They blamed it on the COVID, of course. But it was pure, unadulterated starvation.
Those of us who survived, we cheered when the vaccination train got its full head of steam. I remember getting my first dose, having to wait in this open bullpen for 15 minutes to make sure we didn’t stroke out or have some sort of psychotic episode from being sticked (stuck?).
Pure. Bliss. I mean it.
People were out. They were getting vaccinated. And they were talkative. I went home full as a tick on a deer.
However…
It’s not been all feasting, all the time. Let’s let a little truth in here, shall we? People have lost a lot in this year-and-a-half of sheltering in place. A lot of different things. Human touch (which is like taking a life force shooter, by the way). Congregating in a place - concerts, restaurants, bars - the gym.
Emotion.
Seriously.
We lost our connection to the human world, since we had to communicate through a computer camera. We lost all the feels. And I hope - I pray - we get that back. Because, man, the alternative. I don’t want to even think about it.
I’m very lucky. I have a dog. She’s the best. And I took just enough of her life force to get by. Hey, I know it sounds seriously twisted. But she got extra pets. Extra treats. A little bacon grease in the morning kibble. Long walks on trails that were abandoned by humans. She was happy. I was happy. And I stayed alive. But I don’t want to have to rely on her for all of it.
I was in this bar the other night, listening to a band. It felt great. The atmosphere was electric (cliche, I know, but hey, give me a break). It was Friday night, some people were still wearing masks, but a lot were not. Everyone looked happy just to be out of the house.
And here’s the rub - everyone I talked to, even those who had a little too much to drink, it wasn’t, I mean, it didn’t nourish me. Hollow life force calories. Like eating a rice cake, if you know what I mean. I think it’ll get better once more and more people get the vax - and return to the streets.
I mean, it has to, right? We didn’t completely lose our way, our connections, did we?
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